“I talked to Downey,” he said. “He’ll see you at headquarters just as soon as you can get there.”
“That’s good news,” I said. “Benton, what have you been told?”
“Marino and I have talked several times. It appears you have several cases going on right now that aren’t connected by evidence, necessarily, but by a peculiar coincidence in timing.”
“I think we’re dealing with more than coincidence. You know about Ronnie Waddell’s print turning up in Jennifer Deighton’s house.”
“Yes.”
He stared off at a stand of evergreens backlit by the setting sun. “As I’ve told Marino, I’m hoping there’s a logical explanation for how Waddell’s print got there.”
“The logical explanation may very well be that he was, at some point, inside her house.”
“Then we’re dealing with a situation so bizarre as to defy description, Kay. A death row convict is out on the street killing again. And we’re supposed to assume someone else took his place in the chair on the night of December thirteenth. I doubt there would have been many volunteers.”
“You wouldn’t think so,” I said.
“What do you know about Waddell’s criminal history?”
“Very little.”
“I interviewed him years ago, in Mecklenburg.“ I glanced over at him with interest. “I’ll preface my next remarks by saying that he was not particularly cooperative in that he would not discuss Robyn Naismith’s murder. He claimed that if he killed her, he didn’t remember it. Not that this is unusual. Most of the violent offenders I have interviewed either claim to have poor recall; or they deny that they committed the crimes. I had a copy of Waddell’s Assessment Protocol faxed to me before you got here. We’ll go over it after dinner.”
“Benton, I’m already glad I’m here.”
He stared straight ahead, our shoulders barely touching. The slope beneath us got steeper as. we rode in silence for a while. Then he said, “How are you, Kay?”
“Better. There are still moments.”
“I know: There will always be moments. But fewer of them, I hope-. Days, perhaps, where you don’t feel it.”
“Yes,” I said. “There are days when I don’t.”
“We’ve got a very good lead on the group responsible. We think we know who placed the bomb.”
We raised the tips of our skis and leaned forward as the lift eased us out like baby birds nudged from the nest. My legs were stiff and cold from the ride, and trails in the shade were treacherous with ice. Wesley’s long white skis vanished against the snow and caught light at the same time. He danced down the slope in dazzling puffs of diamond dust, pausing every now and then to look back. I waved him on by barely lifting a pole as I made languid parallel toms and floated over moguls. Halfway into the run I was limber and warm, thoughts flying free.
When I returned to my room as it was getting dark, I discovered Marino had left a message that he would be at headquarters until five-thirty and for me to call ASAP.
“What’s going on?”
I said when he answered..
“Nothing that’s going to make you sleep better. For starters, Jason Story’s badmouthing you to anyone who will stand still long enough to listen – including reporters.”
“His rage has to go somewhere,” I said, my mood darkening again.
“Well, what he’s doing ain’t good, but it also ain’t the worst of our problems. We can’t locate ten print cards for Waddell.”
“Not anywhere?”
“You got it. We’ve checked his files at Richmond P.D., the State Police, and the FBI. That’s every jurisdiction that should have them. No cards. Then I contacted Donahue at the pen to see if I could track down Waddell’s personal effects; such as books, letters, hairbrush, toothbrush – anything that might be a source for latent prints. And guess what? Donahue says the only things Waddell’s mother wanted were his watch and ring. Everything else Corrections destroyed.”
I sat heavily on the edge of the bed.
“And I saved the best for last, Doc. Firearms hit paydirt and you ain’t going to believe it. The bullets recovered from Eddie Heath and Susan Story was fired from the same gun, a twenty-two.”